SF (February,4,1937 / W. Columbia, WV, USA)

(1) Echoes

I was picking flowers and you were praising smoke.
The echoes of that last time linger on.
Birds pieced from the gray quilt of the dusk
Sang mighty wholeness that is ever lost.

I held your face like summer in my hands.
The warmth was various, a rare suncut.
Wind played your tune through simple blades of grass.
You never heard it, but I hear it still.

Muse India

User Rating: 3,2 / 5 ( 55 votes ) 20

Comments (20)

A wonderful blend of nature and nostalgia echo throughout taking the reader on a journey through a sequence of visuals where memories are recalled with such clarity. I particularly like the line 'birds pieced from the grey quilt of the dusk'...one to savour and re read.
You never heard it, but I hear it still.............. i never forget it, but i hear it for ever.................
Wonderful …’… I held your face like summer in my hands….’ It’s you held warmth of bosom…well poemed… 10+ Ms. Nivedita UK
usually sounds echoes... but visuals echoes unusually.....like minded people can listen to your heart...so poetic and deep love...........
ma'm...what a wonderful poem...you really capture mind and soul of a reader through your gems...like this one....10
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